Turn You On
by foreternityblue
Summary: Brett really wants his question answered. Santiago is horribly confused. Brettiago; Male!Brittany Brett /Male!Santana Santiago


**Title:** Turn You On (1/1)  
><strong>Author:<strong> foreternityblue  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Male!Brittany/Male!Santana  
><strong>Rating:<strong> NC-17 (for sex)  
><strong>Chapter Word Count:<strong> 4, 600**  
>Warnings:<strong> Male!Brittany (Brett), Male!Santana (Santiago), gay sex**  
>Summary:<strong>  
>Brett really wants some answers, Santiago is horribly confused.<p>

**Author's Note:** ... Uhm... yeah... I totally blame this amazing rp that I joined for giving me this insane idea. I'm _just saying_.

* * *

><p>It was a late, somewhat humid summer night when Brett found himself walking down the street, his hands pushed into his pockets as he made his way towards his best friend's house. There was an easy smile on his face, despite the rather serious thoughts running through his head. He was going to ask his best friend an extremely important question, and <em>extremely<em> important question. One that Brett had asked before but said best friend didn't answer it for some reason, and now he wouldn't really have a choice or a say in the matter.

Brett didn't actually have to think to arrive at the familiar brick house, luckily. No one really moved in Lima, Ohio, and he had been walking to his best friend's house for as long as he could remember—not that he could remember _that_ much, but that didn't matter. He found himself standing in front of the all too familiar brick house, and nodded to himself, the smile not falling from his face as he jogged to the side of the house, finding the loose areas between the bricks and gripping onto them, starting to scale the house with ease.

It wasn't really like he liked his football coach _that_ much, since he was kind of really evil… but there were a few things to thank Coach Sylvester about, one of them being training him to have so much upper body strength. That was totally against the point, though, as he sidled across the house to the window ledge that he remembered maybe a little too much.

With a strong grip, he grabbed onto the ledge, and reached forwards blindly to see if the window was open. When his bare hand touched the fabric of the curtains hanging there, Brett knew that the window was open, and took a deep breath before pulling himself up onto the windowsill with a grunt. He heard movement inside of the room, and the fact that his best friend was awake was confirmed as he climbed into the room easily, pushing aside the curtains and letting them fall back in place behind him.

The room was dark, as it always was, and it took Brett a few moments of standing there, staring at the corner were he _knew_ a beanbag chair was to find the familiar shape of his best friend sitting there—well, he was half standing up, actually. Swallowing, Brett took a step to the side and let the muted light from the moon and stars filter into the room, and directly into that corner, and he couldn't help but grin more when he saw Santiago sitting there, his back straight as opposed to how he was normally lounged back.

Santiago Lopez. Brett Pierce's best friend.

"Hey San!" Brett greeted happily, turning around and shutting the window, before walking over to where Santiago was giving him an extremely odd look that screamed 'What the fuck.'

The Latino made a move to stand up, his hand braced on the floor as he continued to give Brett that same odd look, "Brett, what are you doing here? I know that you can come over whenever but…"

Brett stopped right in front of his best friend, and reached down, placing his hands on Santiago's shoulders and pushing him back down on the beanbag chair, "No, stay sitting," he commanded softly, his smile fading, instead being replaced by that serious gaze that was similar to the one he had during prom when he had been trying to console Santiago since he lost the running for Prom King. "I have a really important question to ask you, Santi."

Santiago let himself fall back onto his beanbag chair, still giving Brett a weird look, his eyes showing a small bit of worry due to the seriousness on the blond's face, "You have a question to ask me? Well… ask away."

"Do I turn you on?" Brett asked softly, his eyes training onto San's, a slight smile pulling at his lips at the way that the Latino's jaw dropped and his eyes widened at the sudden question. It looked like Santiago was floundering for an answer, because his mouth kept opening and closing in absolute confusion. It wasn't like they hadn't messed around before, and Brett knew that San loved him and Santiago knew that Brett loved him, but the blond _really_ wanted to know the answer for this. "It's a yes or no question, San," Brett muttered, his voice dropping slightly.

The confused, shell shocked teenager made a move to sit up again, but Brett leaned down and pushed him back once again, shaking his head and making a clucking sound in a somewhat silent way of chastising the dark haired boy. "Brett… what the hell are you talking about?" Santiago finally choked out when he fell back again, his arms sprawling to the side randomly.

Brett's lower lip jutted out into a pout, and he took a slight step away from Santiago, his hands lifting and trailing up his chest, "I don't? I thought that I did, though…" his hands found the first button of his shirt, and he slid it through the hole slowly… of course Brett didn't plan this. _Of course_. Sarcasm intended. "Why don't I, San? Don't you love me?" he continued to unbutton his blue short sleeved button up slowly, the buttons sliding through their holes slowly, though he never broke eye contact with his best friend.

Santiago seemed to choke on air as Brett's shirt fell half open, and he continued unbuttoning it, not pausing for a moment, "Brett, wh-what are you—Brett, stop, I—Brett!"

The blond couldn't help but laugh a little bit at his best friend's freaking out as he finished unbuttoning the shirt, letting it hang open as his head tilted to the side and down slightly, his blond bangs falling in front of his eyes. "You turn me on, San, a lot," he whispered, rolling his shoulders and letting the shirt flutter to the ground easily, another light laugh escaping his lips at the shocked sounds Santiago continued making.

His hands found the hem of his white shorts, and he undid the button there, too, and slid the zipper down slowly, his eyes never leaving San's face, despite the fact that his best friend was staring at his hands. Or something around that area. When they were completely open, Brett let his pants fall due to gravity (at least, he though it was gravity) and stepped out of them, walking back towards Santiago, leaning over and pressing his hands into the beanbag next to the Latino's head. He saw the way Santiago's Adam's Apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, and Brett couldn't help but grin a little bit as his knees found purchase next to San's hips on the beanbag, straddling him easily in his green boxers.

"B-Brett, we shouldn't—" Santiago started, though his sentence trailed off into a groan when the blonde pressed their hips together, making both of their erections extremely obvious. "Brett…" San breathed, his hands finding the blond's strong shoulders and absolutely _clinging_ to them as the taller boy continued to rock forwards.

"Your parents aren't home," Brett stated softly, reaching for the hem of Santiago's shirt, pushing it up a little bit so that his bellybutton was showing, "I checked…" with that, he leaned down and pressed their lips together, turning his head to the side so that their noses wouldn't bash together and their lips fit together so naturally—so familiarly. His hips didn't stop moving through the kiss, since he was well aware of how his best friend was being affected by everything. Knowing that, he just really didn't want to stop—especially when San gasped, his mouth opening, allowing Brett to dive his tongue inside of Santiago's mouth, pressing their tongues together before lightly dragging the tip of his tongue across the roof of his mouth.

They continued kissing for a few moments, until Santiago tilted his head back with a gasp, attempting to say something about needing air. Brett couldn't really pay attention, though, because he was _really_ distracted by his best friend's neck, which was laid bare just for him. He smiled again and leaned down, peppering kisses against it gently, hearing San gasp softly at his ministrations. His lips found the pulse point in the Latino's neck, and he attached his lips to it, suckling and biting gently, his tongue running over that singular point.

Santiago had begun to squirm under him a bit, and Brett pulled away with a light 'Pop', content with the fact that a hickey would be there for a while—at least until the next day. It wasn't often that San became so undone, because it was normally Santiago who was teasing Brett, but Brett absolutely _adored_ moments like the one they were in. It always felt so special and amazing; that _he_ was the one to do this to his best friend, and that _he_ was the only one who could do it.

Quickly, his hands found the hem of Santiago's shirt again, and he pushed it up more, shimmying down to the point that his knees hit the carpet, and San whined at the loss of contact between their clothed cocks. The whine made San giggle a little bit—totally manly, he knew—as he pressed a gentle kiss to the Latino's stomach, and trailed his lips upwards as the fabric moved back and revealed more skin. He licked some places, gently bit other, but he really mostly just kissed Santiago's strong stomach.

Brett straightened up a little bit and tugged the shirt up semi-violently, and Santiago got the message and lifted his back up a little bit, lifting his arms over his head as he panted just slightly, letting the blond pull the shirt over his head and toss it somewhere behind him that Brett wasn't entirely sure of. It was just somewhere in the dark room, that was all he knew.

However, before he even heard the shirt hit the carpet—well, it didn't make much of a sound anyways, but whatever—he ducked down and attached his lips to Santiago's left nipple, taking it into his mouth and running his tongue over it teasingly, before biting on it somewhat harshly, soothing it with his tongue afterwards.

San kind of moaned, though Brett could tell that he was holding it back, which made the blonde frown a little bit around the nipple, before doubling his efforts, one of his hands trailing upwards, the rough pad of his thumb dragging over the other already half-hardened nipple on the other side of Santiago's chest, making the Latino squirm a little bit. Brett's other, free hand wandered downwards as his best friend continued to writhe and jerk as gently as possible, and he unbuttoned Santiago's pants with one hand.

Brett lifted his head once again, both hands reaching downwards to grab at San's pants. Before he really did anything, though, he ducked down and flicked Santiago's left nipple with his tongue, before straightening up, staring down at his best friend silently, a soft smile on his face at how absolutely wrecked Santiago looked already. His chest was raising and falling harshly, and his pupils were blown out in lust as he stared up at the blond, his hands gripping the beanbag chair with a vice-like grip.

"I love you, San," Brett whispered, before hooking his thumbs into Santiago's black boxers as well, pulling both his shorts and boxers down at the same time leaving the Latino lying absolutely naked against the beanbag chair that he was always sitting in—the same chair that Brett had convinced San into cuddling with him on when they were in their earlier teens.

Santiago gasped, trying to sit up a little bit again, though Brett pushed him back down before reaching down for his own boxers. "I love you, too," Santiago gasped, causing Brett to grin a little bit, dragging the waistband of his blue boxers over his hips and then down to his knees.

Slowly, he stretched himself back over Santiago with a soft sigh, their hips slotting together as he shimmied his entire body, trying to get his boxers all the way off. San shouted briefly as their erections pressed together, and his hands flew up to grab at Brett's hair, his hips arching up for more contact—which really wasn't even possible, considering that Brett was lying on top of San and they were touching practically as much as possible, even if his legs extended a little further than his best friend's did.

When Brett's boxers finally fell to the floor completely, the blond hummed happily, leaning down to capture his best friend's lips in a kiss again, licking gently at Santiago's lips to get some form of permission as his hand groped at the floor around him to find his shorts. Sure, that made his body contort somewhat awkwardly to continue pressing their hips together, but that didn't matter. Brett was flexible.

Brett pulled away from the kiss when he finally grabbed his shorts, and he sat up, shifting a little bit to kneel on the ground again, loving the whine that fell from Santiago's lips once again. He grinned, letting his bangs fall back in front of his eyes as he dug for the tube of lube he knew he had in there, and the condom that should have been in the same pocket. It took him a few times until he found what he was looking for, and he took them out triumphantly, dropping them on the beanbag next to San's hips, before reaching forwards and pressing his fingers into the Latino's thighs, signaling for him to part his legs, which he did with a sigh, before his hand reached for his cock, gripping onto it and starting to pump—

Until Brett gripped his wrist tightly and pulled his hand away. Santiago half screamed, his eyes snapping open as he glared at the blond murderously, to which Brett just grinned easily, "I want you to come just because of me," the blonde whispered roughly, and he almost laughed at the noise that choked itself out of Santiago's throat that was some sort of cross between a groan and a gasp. Brett took the moment easily and grabbed the lube, unscrewing the cap and squeezing some out onto three of his fingers. He dropped the tube to the ground and gently grabbed Santiago's hip, lifting it up, "C'mon, San, lift your hips for me," Brett muttered.

Santiago muttered something incomprehensible and lifted his knees into the air, in turn lifting his hips, still keeping his legs apart, "Brett, what are you…?" he murmured, lifting his head to watch Brett with dark, rather lustful eyes.

With a gentle smile, Brett, leaned forwards and braced his hand on the beanbag next to San's head, his lubed hand trailing downwards, his index finger trailing across San's opening, and at hearing the high (at least for Santiago's vocal range) keening sound, he laughed softly and carefully pressed his finger inside, biting his bottom lip gently at how the body below him absolutely sucked him in, "Mm… San, you're tight," Brett muttered when his long finger was pressed all the way inside.

The Latino groaned loudly, though it was abruptly cut off in a rather strangled manner as his back arched, "Brett," he murmured, his nails digging into the blond's bare shoulders in a way that would have been painful if Brett weren't so distracted by pumping his finger in and out of Santiago's body. "Brett," San choked out, his hips thrusting up, obviously needing some sort of friction on his bobbing cock—which was actually somehow pretty now that Brett actually looked at it, "Brett, I need more," he whispered, his head dropping back.

Brett hummed in the back of his throat and pressed soft kisses against Santiago's neck, suckling on the junction between his shoulder and the base of his neck as he pressed a second finger gently in, scissoring his fingers as he pressed them in and out, bringing out more choked sounds from Santiago. "… I want to hear you, San," Brett muttered against the tanned neck as he pushed the third finger inside, "I really, really wanna hear you scream my name…"

He crooked his fingers just right, and he heard Santiago _scream_ and arch his back almost dangerously, writhing briefly, "Of, _fuck_, Brett!" he half-sobbed, and Brett nodded in approval, smiling and leaning down to kiss the Latino again, automatically diving his tongue into the warm cavern, humming softly as he pulled his fingers out, swallowing the whine that San gave out due to the loss.

Brett pulled away and grinned down at San, who really just wouldn't stop moving, and his legs were _shaking_, probably in his attempt to not just lie them flat down. He reached for the condom that was half buried between Santiago's hip and the beanbag, and ripped it open with his teeth, taking the rubber out easily and sliding it over himself, "You're so handsome, San," he muttered softly as he picked the tube back up, squeezing a rather ample amount into his hand before spreading it over his cock. "Like this… you look more handsome than Charlie does when he's wearing a bowtie," he absentmindedly wiped his hand on his shorts, and braced one hand on the beanbag next to Santiago's head, who was looking at him oddly due to the comparison. Brett just smiled in return and held his erection gently, leading it to San's stretched entrance, "Tell me if it hurts."

In response, Santiago just whimpered _something_ and Brett sighed contently, not pressing in just yet, really just grazing the entrance because he _really_ liked seeing the normally strong and proud Santiago absolutely wrecked with pleasure because of him. It was… kind of awesome really. With a light chuckle, Brett reached for San's left hand, taking it from his shoulder and holding onto it gently as he pressed in _just_ barely, his head slipping inside.

"_Ah_!" San shouted, throwing his head back against the chair again, his nails digging into Brett's shoulder as his other hand squeezed the blond's hand basically as tightly as he possibly could without breaking all the bones in it. "H… Hurts…" he breathed out, and Brett swallowed, leaning down an pressing light kisses against San's neck. He really didn't want to hurt Santiago, and he knew that this was San's first time being on the bottom—and Brett's first time being on the top, which he found he really enjoyed—but the Latino felt _really_ good around Brett's cock. Seriously.

Brett breathed out shakily, before slowly continuing to press in, suckling lightly at San's neck as the teen below him writhed—whether from pain or pleasure, Brett couldn't exactly tell. "Are you okay, Santi? I can stop if you want me to…" he muttered when he was only half in, really wanting to stop if Santiago wasn't okay with this at all. San was his best friend, after all.

Santiago took a deep, shaky breath, and seemed to try to relax back into the beanbag chair, though his hands still held their extremely tight grips. Brett wouldn't be surprised that his shoulder was bleeding, like that time that Lady Tubbington scratched him really, really badly, "N-No… I don't start things and not finish them, Brett… you know that…" he forced out, biting his bottom lip for a moment before shifting his hips, taking Brett further in than he already was. "I—ah—It doesn't even hurt that much anymore."

With a nod, Brett swallowed again and squeezed Santiago's hand back, before continuing to press his hips forwards, gasping himself at the feeling of San's body _accepting_ him… this was that he really liked about sex in general, it was being connected with someone in the more intimate way possible. Of course, before, Brett never actually did this kind of thing with anyone he loved… but he was then and there, and that was enough for him—more than enough.

By the time he was all the way inside, Santiago was still taking deep breaths, and his hands were still clutching onto Brett so tightly that they were shaking, but he still rolled his hips enticingly after a few moments of adjusting to the stretch, his eyes opening slowly and staring up at Brett's, who lifted his head from San's neck, his mouth dropping open a little bit at the blond's breathy moan. "Brett…" he muttered, thrusting his hips upwards, his dick rubbing against the male dancer's abs, which made him close his eyes again and bite his lip harshly, "… fucking… move… your ass…"

Brett couldn't help but laugh a little bit, because no matter what, Santiago was still Santiago, even if he was in such a position. He complied, however, and started rocking back and forth, sighing at the feeling because it was _so awesome_. It was even more awesome than—dare he think it—Nutella, Cheetos, and fondue. All together. Having sex with San was _just_ that great.

"_More_," Santiago hissed, thrusting his hips again, groaning lightly, "_fuck_, that's good…" Despite the fact that Brett could hear the slightest tone of pain in San's voice, he nodded, complying to the Latino's wishes once again and pulling out more, before thrusting in easily, building up a rhythm like he did when he was dancing with Mikayla randomly.

They moved together, Brett pulling out and thrusting, while Santiago managed to meet him, even if a little clumsily, because they were somehow always on the same… wavelength, or something. Plus, San kept whispering Brett's name, over and over again (until Brett hit his prostate and he ended up beginning to _scream_ the blond's name, along with quite a few curse words along with "_There, there_!" again… and again… and again), and Brett kind of decided that sex with Santiago was the best sex. Ever. People were seriously missing out—not that he'd _let_ anyone else do this. Brett was a little clueless, but he wasn't dumb, and he was protective. And territorial.

It didn't take too long until Santiago was coming apart and writhing uncontrollably, his thrusts becoming haphazard and he was practically _begging_ to be touched—and that was the one command (request, really) that Brett didn't follow. Instead, he breathed shallowly and started thrusting harder, his breaths start to come in pants as he started trying harder to get San to come because _damn_ he wanted to see that—

Really, it happened in almost a haze. One moment Brett was watching San's face, which was twisted into absolute pleasure, waiting and moving, and the next the Latino was throwing his head back as far as he possibly could, his back arching beautifully (yes, Brett could use the adjective beautiful on such a guy as Santiago) as ribbons of white exploded between them, mainly falling on San's stomach and chest. He twitched spasmodically deliciously around Brett's dick, and the blond shouted, throwing his head back as well as San's limp hand fell from his shoulder, though his hand was still tight around Brett's own.

Brett somehow miraculously kept himself propped up above Santiago (probably due to mental will), and breathed heavily for a minute or three, before slowly detangling their hands and reaching down, pulling his cock out with a small groan, still breathing harshly. Damn, not even a football game or trying to get Lady Tubbington onto the treadmill was that energy using… still, Brett pulled the used condom off of his cock, wrinkling his nose at it before tying it up and standing up shakily, swaying a little bit before turning and tossing it into the trashcan that was all the way across the room. With a sigh, the blond turned around and looked at his best friend, who was sprawled across his beanbag chair, an arm crossed over his eyes.

Brett laughed lightly and walked back over go his best friend, falling to his knees in front of the Latino again, pressing his hands into the beanbag next to San's torso, "You look really, really hot like this, San," he muttered, before leaning down and running his tongue up Santiago's chest, humming softly at the taste of his come on his tongue. Above him, Santiago groaned, sounding an odd mix between aroused and absolutely annoyed as the blond detached his tongue, only to go to another spot and continue "cleaning" the teen up.

"_Fuck_, Brett," Santiago hissed, shifting underneath him as he continued licking at his stomach and chest, "stop that—that hurts—_Brett_!"

"How does that hurt?" Brett asked, laughing a little bit as he lifted his head up, swallowing what was left on his tongue, satisfied with the physical state that San was in, since he was kind of cleaner, "I'm just licking you, like that Charlie does to me when I have something on my face or whatever." Another odd comparison, but that was just Brett's mind, so he just settled himself on San's chest, smiling happily and letting his eyes fall closed.

San groaned, wrapping an arm snugly around the blonde and pulling him close, "My dick is trying to get hard again, Brett. That fucking hurts because I'm really damn sensitive," he muttered, and Brett couldn't help but giggle a little bit and roll over a little bit, their chests landing square on top of each other as he propped himself up a little bit more, hovering in front of San's face.

"Sorry, Santi," Brett muttered, leaning forwards and teasingly biting the Latino's nose, which just caused his best friend to laugh and turn his head away, his dark eyes opening and meeting Brett's lighter ones.

The amused smile on Santiago's face faded, though, and Brett tilted his head to the side confusedly, the smile still on his own face, "I can't believe you just fucked me on my beanbag chair," Santiago snorted, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

Brett made an indignant noise, and leaned forwards to press a kiss against Santiago's smooth cheek, nipping at it with his teeth playfully, "I didn't fuck you," he whispered, as if it were some kind of secret, "I made love to you."

Santiago seemed to stop moving—breathing in general, and his head turned slowly, their eyes reconnecting as a disbelieving look cross San's eyes, "… You… made love to me…?" he repeated questioningly, his eyebrow raising just a little bit, obviously not exactly used to the words.

"_Duh_," Brett said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, reaching and poking the Latino's nose, "Anyone could fuck you, San. Only a person who loves you as much as I do could make love to you, though—plus, I know you fuck a lot of girls on your bed… I wanted your real first time to be special, that's why I made you stay in the beanbag chair. See?"

His best friend seemed disbelieving for a few moments, before a soft, meaningful smile crossed over his face and he wrapped both of his arms around Brett, bringing him down and pressing a kiss against his lips—the first kiss that _San_ had started, not Brett. "When did you get so smart?" he murmured against the blond's lips.

Brett laughed softly and shrugged, "So, San…" Santiago made a noise in the back of his throat, "do I turn you on?"

Santiago's head tipped back again, and he laughed loudly, the laugh echoing in the dark room, "Yes, Brett, you turn me on."

The blond fell against San's chest, perfectly content. Finally.


End file.
